


In The Temple

by KaraRenee



Category: Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8137765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaraRenee/pseuds/KaraRenee
Summary: Captain Picard takes some well-deserved leave on a planet where an archaeologist is working on a site similar to ancient Egypt on Earth. What the Captain does not expect is to find a little vacation romance.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first fanfic I wrote. It was part of a private challenge from two other AO3 writers (and very good friends of mine).

_ Star Date 47392.75 Jean-Luc Picard’s personal log. _

_ I have turned over the Enterprise to Commander Riker.  We are in orbit over an M-class planet called Beta-12.  I am about to embark on a two week holiday to join Dr. Zoe Kieran and her archeological team at an ancient site on the large continent called Melinoe.  Dr. Kieran is currently working on excavating a tomb of an ancient queen.  I look forward to spending time off the Enterprise and helping to uncover this site. _

The doors opened as the captain approached.  He reached to his waist to adjust his shirt, but his hand found only his jacket.  A smile spread across his face.  Out of uniform, dressed for the planet below, he adjusted his pack on his left shoulder.

“Ah, Captain, ready for a little R and R?”

“Yes, Chief O’Brien, I’m looking forward to it.”

“The coordinates you gave me are outside of the nearest city, sir.  It looks like I’ll be transporting you to some ruins.”

The captain’s smile broadened.  “Indeed, chief.  I believe I will be meeting a Doctor Kieran from the archaeology department of the University of Melinoe.”

The console beeped and a distant voice said “Is Captain Picard ready to transport?”

He nodded and got on to the transporter pad.

O’Brien replied “Initiating now.”

Captain Picard materialized in a small white stucco room.  The table in front of him was laid out neatly with brushes and chisels, hammers and spades.  The tools were well used, but wiped clean.  On a counter under a picture window was a potted palm-like plant with large hot pink blossoms.  Books with bent spines stood between book ends carved in the images of some ancient underworld demons.  Their tiny faceted jewel eyes glinted in the sunlight.  He walked over to the counter. There was an open notebook, a pencil and some tiny pots of paint.  Someone had been sketching and painting what looked like images from the tomb walls; animals with humanoid heads, plants and crops, geometric patterns in bold shades of red and black and blue.  

A noise, the shuffle of feet, the rustle of fabric, turned his head.  Her back was turned to him.  She had shoulder length red hair that brushed against the turquoise fabric of her shirt.  His mind and his lips were at odds for what to say.  He knew it couldn’t be her, as he had seen her on board before he left.  But the words left his mouth before his brain could stop him.

“Beverly…?”

The woman turned around.   _ Not Beverly Crusher _ , his brain reprimanded his tongue. 

She raised one eyebrow as she stepped towards him, right hand extended.  

“Dr. Zoe Kieran.  You must be Captain Picard.”

Her tone was confident, her handshake was firm.  The part of his brain that was still taunting him with “Not Beverly Crusher” was also assessing the woman before him.  Dr. Kieran was slightly taller, her hair a shade more golden blonde than red; her eyes were grey, her cheeks and nose were covered in freckles.  The blue tunic she wore was embroidered with designs similar to the sketches in the book on the counter.  She wore a pair of khaki pants with deep pockets.  A small paint brush was tucked behind one ear, still covered in dust from what she had been diligently cleaning on her workbench.  A bit of the dust had fallen in her hair. 

“Please, I am here to dig, not on official business.  Call me Jean-Luc.”  

“Who is Beverly?” she asked, moving her eyes from his face to the hand he still clasped and was still moving slightly in greeting.

A blush blossomed on his face, up to his scalp.  He dropped her hand and rubbed his palm on his hip. 

“She is a friend and one of my officers on my ship.  She also has red hair and her uniform is blue.”  He knew he sounded like a bit of an idiot.  He blushed again.

“A medical doctor, then?”  

“Yes, she’s the ship’s doctor.” 

The blush subsided from his scalp.  Dr. Kieran smiled.  “Let me show you around my workspace.  I can give you tools for the excavation…”

“Oh, I have brought some of my own,” he patted his bag.  

“No technology in the field, Jean-Luc.  We have to dig like Carter did in Egypt on Earth hundreds of years ago.  Just a hundred yards beneath the surface…”

“The planet has a thick crust of Zelus ore that makes most electronics and technology malfunction.”

Dr. Kieran raised her eyebrow again and gave a little grin.

“I have packed my own brushes and hammer and chisel.  And I know to leave my communicator badge here in your camp.”

The corner of her mouth turned up in a pleased smirk.  “Excellent.  Most amateurs show up with the latest technology and are disappointed they went to the trouble to obtain it and then they can’t use it.  Then you know that the camp here is raised off the ground twenty feet and is all wrapped in copper. Fine for using tech and transporters in here, but if we get an electrical storm, we head out to the storm shelter across the way.”  She nodded her head towards the windows.  Jean-Luc could just see a low building through the glass.  

“What do you know about Zelus ore, Jean-Luc?” she pulled the dusty brush from behind her ear and rolled it between her fingers. 

“It can only be smelted at four thousand centigrade.  It is black, but when the humidity goes up, it weeps green liquid.  It is named after an ancient earth demon of jealousy that ate venomous snakes had black teeth and her breasts leaked green venom.  It also bounces any and all radio frequencies and electrical activity away from itself,” he smiled because Dr. Kieran looked impressed.  “It’s why your lab is up here wrapped in copper, and why we need to get into the low shelter in case of a storm.”

“You, sir, are not the average amateur archaeologist,” the smirk turned into a grin that made her eyes sparkle.  “I expect we’ll get a lot done over the next two weeks while you’re here.”

 

_ Star date 47409.18 Jean-Luc’s personal log _

_ In the past five days Dr. Zoe Kieran and I have been carefully excavating a tomb of an ancient queen on the planet Beta 12.  The similarities between this ancient civilization and that of ancient Egypt on Earth have fascinated archaeologists and historians since these ruins were discovered two hundred years ago.  Both cultures thrived in the middle of a desert along a river, both cultures depicted their gods as part humanoid and part animal, and both cultures dug elaborate tombs out of rock in the desert.  The striking differences between the Melinoe and the Egyptians is that the Melinoe went through an epic building period of partially underground construction instead of pyramids; and their gods are animals with human heads.  This has lead to some speculation to support the old Earth conspiracy theory that aliens helped settle Earth many thousands of years ago and built the pyramids.  Zoe dismisses this speculation and calls it “wild insanity” and has drawn her colleague’s attention to the many instances across the galaxy of civilizations developing in very similar ways without ever having had any interstellar travel.  _

_ I am finding Zoe… Dr. Kieran… a fascinating woman.  She is educated and serious about her work, but she has a sense of humor that took me off guard at first.  Her dry, serious delivery of her humor is punctuated by a look in her eye that begs you to either fall for the joke or laugh.  The first time I laughed, when I finally understood her humor, her mouth curled into the most enchanting smile.  Her eyes sparkled and I found myself wanting to kiss her laughing mouth.  I thought at first that my attraction to her was because she slightly resembles Beverly.  Zoe is genuinely her own woman, semi-wild, free spirited, but grounded and nearly Vulcan-like in her logic.   _

 

“Jean-Luc, come and see this.”  

He stood up and brushed the red dirt from his knees.  They had been clearing away the dust and sand and soil from the walls of a tomb of an ancient queen.  Her sarcophagus had already been removed to the base camp for scanning and analysis.  Zoe’s focus was on interpreting the writing and painting on the walls.  Half of the team had gone back to the camp, the rest were in a side chamber cataloging the funerary items of the queen.  

He knelt next to her.  She was wearing a white linen sleeveless top, her pale arms covered in freckles and smears of dirt.  Her golden red hair was plaited and tied on the ends with bright blue ribbon.  She pointed at series of hieroglyphic type carvings that she just uncovered.  

“Here, move in closer, I want your opinion on my interpretation of this text.” Zoe patted the ground next to her.  Jean-Luc leaned his thigh up against hers; his left arm brushed her right.  

“Look here,” she pointed with the end of her brush.  “In the eleventh year of the reign of Queen Aliope her army moved into the land of Spelt to defend their neighbors from invaders from the north.”

“But all the texts about that time period have it that Queen Aliope’s army invaded Spelt to steal their lands.  Do you think this is a PR stunt by her royal household?”

Zoe straightened her back and leaned her head left and right.  Her joints cracked slightly from the first large movement they had made in hours.  Jean-Luc could smell the citrus and ginger scent she used on her hair and skin.  It was mingled with the dust and dirt, sweat of their bodies and close air of the tomb.  He found himself longing to bury his face in her braids, and in her milky neck, inhaling her, and pressing his lips to her skin. 

She leaned against him, her bare arm silky smooth against his.  “Possibly,” she sighed and rubbed her hands.  “I’d like to see some more texts from in here.  And maybe in another tomb somewhere there will be more evidence to support or deny that.”

Zoe lay her head on his shoulder.  Jean-Luc’s body stiffened in response.  Emotional shields up at maximum, shut out the potential for heartache.  She took a deep breath, and with the exhale, she sunk into the crook of his arm.  He relaxed in response, enjoying the weight of her against him. Tilting his head to the left, he gently lay his cheek on the top of her head.  The scent of her filled his nostrils and fogged his mind. 

“Jean-Luc…” her voice was a sultry whisper.

“Yes?” He straightened up and resumed his rigid posture. 

Turning towards him, her knees sliding in the dust to touch his to face him, she placed her face inches from his.

“Jean-Luc, for five days,” she moved her head until she caught his gaze directly and held him with her bedroom eyes, “we have done the ridiculous dance of attraction.  The brush of hands, the bumping into one another, the trying to get away from the rest of the team so we can be alone…”

Pink began to creep into his scalp.

“I am sorry if I have not been entirely professional, Dr. Kieran. I…”

Zoe took his face in her red silt covered hands. She smoothed down the crown of white hair behind his ears, and tilted her head to the right.

“We are not colleagues, Jean-Luc.  You are here on holiday.”  Her mouth was relaxed and he could feel her warm breath on his lips.  “And you cannot deny that we are attracted to one another.”

“I am not in a position to be in a relationship. I… I have difficulty trusting myself in relationships. I get hurt easily,” he whispered, a tinge of pain and regret in his tone.

“I am not looking for a relationship,” she let her moist lips brush his.  “I’m looking to get you beneath me.”  She locked his gaze with hers, as if daring him to pull away with the softness in her eyes.   _ Can you resist me? _  Her breath was warm and tickled his lips.  With each breath she moved closer to him, her breasts rising and falling, and the slightest tilt to her head until her lips were brushing his.  Mouths relaxed, breath coming more rapidly, she smiled.  The movement of her mouth tickled his, and he kissed her hungrily. 

Zoe un-bent her knees and slid into his lap.  Her hands caressed his head, ruffling the crown of short white hair, exploring his smooth pate with her fingers and palms.  Jean-Luc’s mouth moved down her jaw and neck.  He inhaled her scent and nibbled at the tender skin of her neck.  With a primal, wordless understanding, Zoe shifted her weight while he moved his legs from beneath him.  His desire was obvious, hot and solid beneath his loose fitting khakis.  Low moans and satisfied noises generated from her core as he continued to cover her neck with kisses and tiny bites.  

Pressing his hands into the small of her back, she arched backward.  Jean-Luc nuzzled her bosom, her nipples hardening at his touch.  Zoe slid her arms between them and in a quick movement tore off her tunic.  Her undergarment was not the plain and utilitarian style most women in Starfleet wore. It was pale pink lace, nearly the colour of her pale skin when in blush.  Her nipples stood up against the unlined floral lace.  He took one in his mouth, his hot, moist breath against the lace sent shivers through her.  He was gentle as he explored her breasts with his mouth, his hands strongly supporting her low back.  Zoe reached behind her to unclasp the bra and tossed it aside in the dust.  Jean-Luc looked up, slightly surprised.  She took her right breast in her hand, a pleading look on her face.  He closed his eyes and took it in his mouth.  She moaned “harder…” He pressed the nipple between his lips and tugged slightly.  She gasped “bite me...” His teeth scraped the tender pink nub.  “Harder,” she demanded.  

Tossing aside all previous experience of being a gentle lover, Jean-Luc increased the pressure, listening to every sound she made, the little gasps and moans of encouragement.  He got caught up in responding to her noises, as he flicked her nipple with his tongue between bites, and did not notice until her back arched, she moved closer to him, head thrown back and she whimpered “yes…” that he had bit her harder than he thought he should have.  He kissed the nipple tenderly as if apologizing to it.  “Again,” she begged.  He bit down.  “Harder…” her voice was low and pleading, demanding and he could not deny her  

Afraid of hurting her, and knowing women don’t like the other breast being ignored, he switched focus to the left.  Zoe cupped his face in her hands and kissed him deeply, drinking in his passion and feeding it with hers. She pushed her weight against him and lay him down on the tomb floor.  Jean-Luc’s hazel green eyes were full of surprise.  The women he had known were all intelligent and bold, but none as in control of the bedroom as this one.  Zoe lay her full weight upon him, reaching one arm down to slip her hand beneath his waist band, her other arm supporting the back of his head.  She grasped his erection and slid her finger tips firmly up and down the tip.  She covered his forehead with tiny kisses, moving up to where his hairline used to be, kissing his scalp, and following the line of his white hair behind his right ear.  

She flicked the curve of his ear with her tongue.  “Pants off, Captain.  I need you  _ now _ .”

All thoughts of laying her upon a blanket, undressing her slowly and exploring the space between her thighs to discover if she was a natural ginger had to be tossed aside.  She was balancing on one arm, using the other to tear off her trousers.  

Jean-Luc scrambled out of his pants, pushing them off his ankles with his toes.  Zoe straddled him, hovering just above his erect penis.  She slid her hands under his tunic, caressing his chest.  

“Oooo… hair.  Off with the shirt.  Now.”

She helped him pull it off and tossed it away. 

Still hovering above him, her wet opening teased the hyper sensitive tip of his cock.  She ran both palms up his torso, exploring his belly and the white hair on his pecs.  Leaning forward, she nuzzled his chest, breathing in the scent of him – sweat and musk and a bit of the tea he had dribbled on himself during breakfast while laughing.  He tucked and raised his pelvis to attempt to push himself into the warm wet space that teased him.  She pulled back, a playful look on her face.  

“Only when I am ready.  You do not yet have permission to come aboard.”

The smile deepened the creases of his face and light up his hazel eyes.  He let out a low throaty giggle. “You are unlike any woman I have ever met, Zoe.”  He traced the line of her jaw with the end of her braid.

She smirked, the right corner of her mouth turned up.  “I’m just an ordinary woman.”

“Hardly.”  The light did not leave his face.  Desire made him glow from within.  “You are made of fire.”

She lowered her hips, sliding him deep inside her.  “Let’s see how hot we can burn.”

Jean-Luc was lost in the moist silk, every nerve in his body humming to a low throbbing tune that Zoe’s passion started in him.  Her hips undulated slowly, her nether lips tugging him in deeper, tighter.  She began to move faster, driving her hips in smaller bursts, pressing him deeper into the dirt covered tomb floor.  She gasped.  She growled.  She fell forward onto her palms.  With her bare bosom brushing against his chest, she leaned in to kiss him, hiding her screams of pleasure in his mouth.

She paused for a few breaths, her forehead against his.  Her hips began to move again. 

“Sorry about that.  You just feel so damn good inside me.” 

Stunned, but pleased, he cupped her cheek with one hand and kissed her deeply.  His mouth was hungry for her orgasm again.  His other hand wrapped around her hip bone, encouraging her to ride harder.  She tucked her tailbone, pressing the tip of his cock into her g-spot.  Her breaths came faster, she gasped and moaned into his mouth, but he would not let her go.  His rhythm matched hers.  She rode the waves of his pelvis, crashing and cresting in electric shivers of ecstasy.  Jean-Luc’s breaths were now shallow.  He struggled to keep their mouths together.  Open, panting lips, attempting to not shout because of the team of archeologists in the next room, they came together.  Naked sweaty bodies shuddered as the tiny spasms of release ran up and down their nerves.  

Jean-Luc wrapped his arms around her.  He could feel her heart pounding in her chest.  He could feel her breath normalizing with the rise and fall of her breasts.  He pressed a kiss to her freckled forehead. 

Zoe pushed herself back on to her knees.  That smirk with the right side of her upper lip curled upward made him smile.  He reached up to trace her pale golden eyebrow.  Turning her face into his hand, she kissed his palm.  

“Thank you,” she climbed off him and reached for their clothes. 

“Thank you?” he leaned up on his elbow. 

“Yes.  Thank you.  You are amazing.  I know you needed that as much as I did.”  She adjusted her breasts back into their pink lace bra.

“But, what happens now?” he pulled his pants up. 

“Now we get dressed.  You will help me uncover another meter of text here on this wall.  Then our work day will be nearly done.  We will meet up with the team, and head back to base.”

“I meant with us,” he touched her wrist as she pulled her tunic over her head.

She smiled.  “Then we will compile our data, eat dinner with the team, and then,” she leaned in to playfully bit his lip, “you will meet me in my quarters for a bath.  If your tongue is as gifted between my legs as it is when kissing, we have some exploring to do tonight.”

 

_ Star date 47410.5, Jean-Luc Picard’s personal log _

_ Today Zoe and I worked in the tomb of Queen Aliope.  We were able to uncover several feet of text relief that tell a version of the invasion of Spelt that could be a public relations stunt by the queen and her family, or it could be a version of history we are not aware of yet. Only if the teams from the University of Spelt can find archaeological evidence from that time period in their own land, will the question be resolved.   _

_ Our time alone in the tomb today was a revelation.  I have never known a woman to be so direct and honest with her body and what she wants from me.  I am only on Beta-12 for nine more days.  I came here for the ancient history and to get my hands dirty in some old-fashioned excavation.  I found a woman that I cannot define.  She is a brilliant scholar.  She is organized and meticulous, logical and honest.  She is also playful and full of joy.  Her smile lights up the room.  And her kisses muddle my brain. _

_ Dinner with the team was not easy for me.  I looked to Dr. Kieran for how to act.  She treated me no differently than she had yesterday.  We discussed what we all uncovered, we compiled the data.  She did not take her customary glass of wine with dinner.  Dr. Rinoa Savage commented on this while she was pouring out the last bottle of Melinoe Red 2368.  Zoe claimed she had a headache and would instead take a pot of Earl Grey to her room, hoping the caffeine would take the edge off the pain.  _

 

The battery operated antique analog Earth clock that hung in his room chimed twenty hundred hours.  Dr. Savage had spent her childhood collecting antique clocks and she adorned the base camp with her collection.  Jean-Luc had not changed his clothes when they got back to camp. No one did immediately.  It was easier to unload and clean gear while still in the day’s grubby clothes.  By the time everyone was done transcribing notes and uploading data, hunger had taken over the need to be clean.  Hands were washed, then all eleven sat down to eat.  With the dirt and sweat of the day upon him, he walked out of his room to Zoe’s.  

He knocked lightly on her door.  The doors at base camp were wood and hinged.  It made Jean-Luc slightly nostalgic for the family vineyard on Earth. 

Zoe opened the door.  She stood in soft candle light wearing a sarong printed with images from the tomb walls of Queen Palmyra.  Her freckled shoulders were smeared in red dust.  She had taken her hair out of its plaits.  It framed her face in frizzy waves of gold and orange. 

“An image from the tomb of Palmyra,” he nodded at her sarong as he closed the door behind him.  “You did your thesis on her.”  His hazel green eyes consumed her from crown to toes.  

“Indeed I did,” she raised one eyebrow.  “You surprise me with how much you know about my work, Jean-Luc.  I feel like you’ve done a thesis on me.”

“I believe there is a great deal of field work to be done before I present my findings, Dr. Kieran.”  He reached out to slide his arm around her waist.  She turned on her bare feet, gliding across the carpet.  With the flick her fingers, the knot in her sarong came undone and the beige fabric fluttered to the floor, exposing her back and round buttocks.  Down the center of her spine was a tattoo of Melinoe hieroglyphs.

“Queen of Life and Death?” he attempted to translate.

“Queen of Sex and Death,” she corrected, looking at him over her shoulder.  “One of Queen Palmyra’s titles.”

Jean-Luc nodded in appreciation.

“To the showers, captain.  We have some more field work to do.”

The bathroom in her quarters was larger and more well-appointed than in his guest quarters.  Native plants hung from the ceiling in red clay pots, their bright pink and yellow flowers filling the room with the same citrus-ginger scent that Zoe exuded.  The white tiled floor had plush green bath mats scattered about.  A wall of mirrors reflected half a dozen candles on the back of the sink.  The water was running in the shower from two heads.  Zoe paused at the glass door, catching Jean-Luc’s gaze in the mirror.  His eyes ran over every curve – the pink nipples on her breasts that fit perfectly in his hand, the rise of her belly, the muscles of her thighs.  

Jean-Luc was not going to hurry tonight.  He slipped his shoes off and placed them under a chair in the corner.  He pulled off his tunic and folded it neatly.  He slipped off his trousers, carefully folding them atop his tunic.  She waited patiently for him at the shower door, watching his reflection.  He took his time walking across the room.  His nudity was streaked with the clay of red dust and sweat.  A handprint in ochre was on his chest.  His tight belly fluttered with his excited breath.  

“How is your headache, doctor?” he ran his fingers up the back of her scalp, golden red hair entwined in his fingers.

“Just an excuse to insure I fuck you sober, captain.”  She rolled her head back, encouraging his hand to massage her scalp.  “I believe in no regrets and no excuses.”

The water was warm and welcome after the cool air of the desert evening.  The floor of the shower was soon a river of red mud.  Zoe’s wet hair was dark and plastered to her back.  The warm water turned her pale skin pink.  She took a bar of soap and rubbed it from Jean-Luc’s belly to the base of his throat.  She traced languid ellipses of pink lather over his chest and belly.  Bubbles slid down, getting stuck in the white hair and dripping off his erect penis.  Zoe pressed her slippery body against his, running the bar of soap up and down his spine, circling his buttocks.  Her mouth tasted of Earl Grey.  She had taken a pot to her room after supper had been cleared away.  She dropped the bar of soap, and brought her hands around to stroke his cock with her lathered hands.  His shaft slid in her palm.  The other hand cupped and tickled his testicles.  He moaned and sucked on her bottom lip.  

She carefully turned her back to him.  “I seem to have dropped the soap.  And I’m still a dirty girl.” 

He knelt and grabbed the soap between his feet.  The warm water beat upon his scalp, making the skin pink.  He traced the lines of her ankles and calves with the bar.  He found the soap worked easily into a thick lather, and covered her thighs in the pink bubbles.  Her legs were slightly apart.  He slipped one hand forward, cupping her mound, massaging the lather into the strawberry blonde hair.  The water pattered against her buttocks, keeping the lather away.  He kissed and nibbled the flesh of her backside.  He ran his tongue up the curve of her spine, tracing the black and red lines of the hieroglyphs.  He stood, one arm around her belly, pressing her into his erection.  His other hand rubbed her rosy skin with the soap until she was covered in thick lather and the entire shower smelled of citrus and ginger.  

Zoe took the soap from him and placed it in its holder.  She stepped away from him, rinsing herself off under the shower head across from him.  The puddle of red mud was washed away, and the last of the pink bubbles circled down the drain before she turned off the water.  

She indicated silently for him to sit in a wicker chair while she dried him off with a thick beige towel.  The cotton-like plant that grew on Beta-12 made softer fabric than Earth cotton.  Zoe started at his head, massaging his pate with circular motions.  She fluffed his hair dry before smoothing it neatly into place.  She kissed the top of his head.  He took her nipples into his mouth, pressing her wet breasts together with a towel.  Not wanting him to stop the attention her breasts craved, she ran her tongue over his bald head.  The sensation took him by surprise.  He stopped and looked up at her quizzically.

“I’ve wanted to do that since you first arrived,” she grinned.  “Do you have any idea, Jean-Luc, of how sexy you are?” 

“I…” he stammered.  “No.  No one has ever told me.”

Both golden red eyebrows shot up.  “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” 

Zoe tilted her head to the left.  She traced circles on his scalp.  “On behalf of my gender, I apologize.  A lover needs to be told how desirable he is.  A man should hear his name whimpered when his lover achieves sweet release.  A man should be told that his bald head,” she placed her palm on his crown, “is sexy.  He should be told how lost his lover gets in his hazel eyes, and how they look green in sunlight, but dark in candle light.”  She kissed his eye lids.  “A man should be told how his powerful arms make his lover feel safe.  He should be told about the lines of his muscles and how they move when he touches her.”  Zoe slid the towel over his arms and shoulders.  

She sunk to her knees.  “A man should be told his chest hair is sexy.  His lover should tell him how she adores the scent of him”, she kissed his chest and inhaled.  “He should be told how his penis, nestled in his white and grey pubic hair is the most beautiful she has ever seen – when both erect and flaccid.  You, sir, have a magnificent penis.”  Zoe slid his legs apart.  She cupped his testes with one hand and placed his cock in her mouth.  

Jean-Luc leaned back in the chair.  Her mouth was hot and sweet.  This was not what he wanted, despite how good it felt.  He sat up, and brought her face to his. 

“I am not used to being dominated, Zoe.  I want you.  It’s my turn.”

“Seriously?”

He stood, taking her hand in his.  Once she was on her feet, he swept her into his arms.  

“I may have to protest,” she said while suppressing a smile.

“I doubt it, doctor.”

“Are you so confident in your abilities, captain?”

He lay her on the bed.  “Tell me after you’ve whimpered my name when I’ve brought you to sweet release for the fifth time tonight.”

 

_ Star date 47428.31, Jean-Luc Picard’s personal log _

_ The past week on Beta-12 has gone by too quickly.  My holiday is being cut a few days short.  Commander Riker has sent a message that the Enterprise is needed to help a science mission in the next star system.   _

_ I have spent my days in the tomb of Queen Aliope, uncovering carved texts and wall paintings with Zoe and Dr. Rinoa Savage and their team.  My nights have been spent in Zoe’s quarters.  She has been a lover who has educated my body, my mind and my soul.  She is what part of her tattoo says: she is Queen of Sex.  Zoe embodies the practices of the ancient Queen Palmyra and her priestesses.  Part of the religion of Melinoe was the honoring of the human body.  Every aspect of life from birth to food, sex to death, was honored with different goddesses and gods.  They believed the body was a temple, made in the images of their divine queen and king of heaven.  The gods mated to make humanity, so every time people made love, they honored their divine creators.  She has taught me to use my body with love, and to honor hers.  But this mutual attraction and affection has been a spiritual exercise.  As much as I will miss waking beside her red hair splayed out on my pillow and the way she pins me to the bed and nibbles my ear, I am not in love with her.  And she is not in love with me.  I am fulfilled and yet detached.   _

_ Last night at dinner the team presented me with a painting they all worked on for me of the image of Queen Aliope and her favorite lover, Xander.  I had spent a great deal of my first few days here carefully uncovering the image of the light haired queen and her bald consort.  Zoe told me in bed that Rinoa suspected our relationship, and this was her wink of approval.   _

 

“Sorry to see you leave, Jean-Luc.  You’ve been a fantastic addition to our little team here,” Rinoa shook his hand firmly. “If you ever decide to give up a life in the stars, you would be welcome here on Beta-12.”

“Thank you, Rinoa.  I do enjoy being terrestrial once in a while.  But my life is aboard the Enterprise.”

Rinoa leaned in to whisper, “The Enterprise won’t keep you as warm at night as what is on planet.  A human lover may be less reliable, but that’s a risk you may want to think about taking one day.” 

She kissed his cheek with a friendly gesture and patted his shoulder before she walked away.  

Zoe stepped closer.  “She suspects?”

“Oh yes, she suspects.”

Zoe laughed.  “I am particular about the lovers I take, Jean-Luc.  I do not take just anyone to my bed.  Or a tomb floor.”

“Or the lid of a sarcophagus?  Or the garden at midnight?” His hazel eyes twinkled. 

The smirk with the upturned right lip made Jean-Luc’s belly flip.  “Even a priestess of the Queen of Sex has firsts.”

Jean-Luc took her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles.  

“I will never forget you, Zoe Kieran.”

She bowed her head slightly.  “And I will never forget you, Jean-Luc Picard.”

Chief O’Brien’s voice chirped in, “Enterprise here. Is the Captain ready to transport?”

Zoe and Jean-Luc nodded to one another and dropped hands. 

“I am, Chief O’Brien.  Energize.”

As his image dissolved into millions of points of light, Zoe blew him a kiss.  Once he was gone Rinoa stood next to her.

“He must have been special, Zoe.”

“He is.”


End file.
